A Veritable Tragedy
by Dragonfly-Moonlight
Summary: Dee and Ryo are called to the scene of an accident.


Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation or FAKE, and I do not profit in writing this story.

* * *

The car looked like a smoldering heap of junk, in Dee's opinion. It rested on one side, the entire exterior blackened and destroyed from the fire that had just consumed the vehicle. From the corner of his eye, he could see the local fire department members watching the burnt out hunk of metal, waiting to be sure the fires were out and never to start again. He hoped in favour of the firemen. Already, he could smell the sickening odor of burnt flesh, and he prayed that whatever happened to the person in the car had been quick. Dee could not imagine what horrors raced through the victim's mind if he (or she) had been alive when the vehicle caught on fire.

As he gazed at the car, something about the scene felt . . . off to Dee. For one, the car was on its side yet there were no other damaged vehicles. It _could_ have been a hit-and-run, but Dee did not see the telltale signs of a car braking suddenly then accelerating just as quickly. Then there was the position of the car itself. If there were no burnt rubber marks, how did the wreck end up on one side? The whole scene felt staged somehow.

"Dee," Ryo touched his shoulder. The touch brought the detective out of his musings, "the fire department says it's all clear now. We can approach the car."

"Hnnn," was Dee's response. His eyes glanced over the crowd gathering. Whoever had set this up was gutsy, and someone in the crowd must have seen _something_ or knew something about this accident.

However, none of the faces he looked at told Dee what he wanted to know. Oh, he saw varying forms of curiosity and concern amongst the crowd, but no other emotions to tell him someone harbored a secret or possessed knowledge about the accident. There were no guilty expressions nor the wide-eyed stares of disbelief. He bit back a growl of frustration as he joined Ryo in their walk to the burnt-out wreckage. Drake grasped his shoulder for a brief moment. His colleague, and friend, squeezed his shoulder.

"Don't worry, man," he murmured so only Dee could hear. "We'll keep an eye out for anyone suspicious. We know the routine."

To that, Dee could only nod. Already he felt sick being near the car's wreckage, the smell of burnt flesh nearly overpowering him. Good Lord above, Dee prayed there were no children in the vehicle. Despite his claims of not liking children, he knew he possessed a soft spot in his heart for them, and his emotions were only amplified by the presences of Bikky and Carol in his life. Ryo handed him a facemask.

"To keep the smell to a minimum," his partner said when Dee cast him an odd glance. "Plus there are fumes . . ."

Dee nodded yet again and slipped the fabric onto his face. Then he and Ryo started their investigation, poking about the wreckage and helping the coroner to remove the two bodies from the car.

As they did, Dee noticed both of the individuals were not completely burned, both were men of Asian descent, and both appeared to be young. However, one man's hair was a pale blond, at least a foot taller than the other, and he had a bullet hole in the center of his forehead. The other man's hair was dark, almost as black as a raven. He surmised the dark-haired man had to be in his late teens, early twenties, but Dee decided to wait for actual verification from the medical examiner to be sure. The young man was also seated in the back, another oddity Dee added to his list, and he also noticed both men wore rings. The blond's ring was a solid band of gold, a wedding ring. The other's was silver, more slender in shape than the first man's ring, and its differences told Dee the two were _not_ a couple. Why that was important, he could not say as of yet. He only knew that it was. An image of Arnon and a dropped chocolate bar flashed into his mind.

'Not now,' he told himself. 'Not now. Please.'

"Dee? Are you all right?" Ryo asked. Dee nodded and blinked, trying to chase away the memory. In blinking, he saw a piece of paper in their dark-haired victim's hand.

"Yeah," he replied absently. "I'm just fine . . . Ryo, take a look at this."

As carefully as he could, Dee pulled the paper out and nodded for the medical examiner to take the bodies. Ryo stepped closer and peered over his shoulder as Dee unfolded the note. The paper had mostly survived the fire, though Dee wondered how it could have given the intensity of the blaze. Then again, both of the victims in the car should have been burnt beyond recognition yet they were not wholly marred. Dee mentally shook away his thoughts – they could be pondered a little later; he possibly had a lead in his hand – and read only an address. There were no names on the note; just the address. Next to him, Ryo pulled out his pad and pen.

"I think we just got lucky, Dee," his partner commented.

"So it would seem," Dee murmured. He quickly bagged the note and handed it to the C.S.I. with them, a man by the name of Danny Messer. The C.S.I. also had the wallets of the two victims, and Dee felt certain he heard him say their names were Tohma Seguchi and Shuichi Shindou as he spoke to his partner, a pretty girl by the name of Lindsay Monroe. According to their identification cards and passports, they were from Japan, but there were no indications as to why they were in New York or how they even knew each other.

"Shall we head over there?" Ryo asked.

"Yeah," he said. "Might as well."

While they spoke, a sinking sensation settled into the pit of Dee's stomach. He did not believe they would find anything useful at the address, only despair and sorrow. Solemnly, he followed his partner to their car.

* * *

Eiri closed his eyes and fought back the wave of panic and nausea threatening him. It could not be happening, not what he thought was happening to him, and he wanted to scream out his denial and his rage. Two detectives, one Dee Laytner and one Randy McLean, had shown up at his brother-in-law's apartment, stating there had been accident of some kind and that they had found his address in the hand of a dead man. They had asked him to accompany them to the morgue, to see if he could identify the bodies of the two men in the car. Eiri had agreed, dreading what the outcome could be.

He had come to New York to get away from his life for a while. His workload was starting to take its toll on him as were the pressures from his sister and his father. The old man still wanted him to take over the family temple, despite Eiri's claims of no interest in doing so, and Mika, well . . . he was not sure what her problem was, only that her "mothering" was starting to worsen. It probably had something to do with Tatsuha. As it was, he needed to leave Japan if he did not want to be hospitalized again. He had only told his brother-in-law and his lover of his plans, and they promised to keep his whereabouts to themselves. Tohma had offered him the use of his apartment, but Eiri had already found a place to his liking. He had written the address down, both in Japanese and English, for Shuichi. His lover wanted to join him as soon as he possibly could, which was the only explanation Eiri had for the detectives finding it. He just did not want their words about the one holding the address to be true, that Shuichi was, in fact, dead.

Only their words were true, and Shuichi lay on a cold metal slab. Tohma lay on another one, and it was not lost on Eiri about the cause of his brother-in-law's death. The bullet hole in the center of his head was the giveaway. There were no words to describe the overwhelming despair taking over his mind and his emotions. Overwhelming despair was a severe understatement. Not only had he lost his lover and his brother-in-law, but he had lost the two people in the world who truly understood him and accepted him for who he was and not what he could be. Shuichi was his light, his soul mate, and Tohma was his best friend. How he could lose both in a single day? Eiri opened his eyes again, the reality setting in this time, and he wanted nothing more than to break down and cry.

"Mr. Uesugi, I'm so sorry for your loss," the medical examiner said. Eiri glanced at him, an older man with grey hair and dark-rimmed glasses. He _did_ look sorry and truly sympathetic, and Eiri almost pitied the man for this job. It could not be easy to be confronted with the family left to carry on after tragedy struck.

"How . . ." The words stuck in his throat. "Shuichi . . . how . . . They said the car had been set on fire . . ."

"He was dead before the fire was started," the medical examiner said. His voice sounded solemn, as if he did not want to relay such news to Eiri. "The detectives at the scene probably did not notice right away, but the back of his head was caved in, like someone hit him with a heavy and blunt object. I would say his death was instant."

"He didn't suffer."

"No. He didn't suffer."

It was a small comfort to Eiri, knowing his Shuichi had not known the agony of being burned alive. The thought was terrifying to the author, and even he knew he could not truly imagine the fear that consumed a person as the flames licked at his (or her) flesh or the pain as death slowly took its time in claiming its next soul. He bent over the slab, his forehead touching Shuichi's, and the tears began to trickle down his cheeks.

* * *

"What do you think, detectives?"

Ryo tilted his head towards Mac Taylor, the lead C.S.I. for the New York crime lab. The three of them – he, Mac, and Dee – stood behind a large, glass window, observing Eiri's reaction to identifying the bodies and to the medical examiner's news. They would receive the full reports later so they could decide what would be released to the media and what would not be. He returned his attention back to the blond-haired man in the morgue.

Initially, Eiri's reaction had been one of disbelief and denial. He did not want to acknowledge what Ryo and Dee were telling him about the alleged accident scene, and he even seemed shock that they knew where he lived, shocked his address had been found on that of a corpse. However, as far as Ryo was concerned, it could have been an act on Eiri's part. With crime scene shows becoming popular to watch, just about anyone, with enough practice, could fool the police. Then there were the man's stoic expressions. For a single moment, some form of emotion would appear – such as Eiri's shock at seeing the bodies – but his emotionless mask would return. Ryo wondered about it, and he wondered why Eiri refused to show anything more than what they were currently seeing.

Still, Ryo could not deny the man looked ready to break down. The news they had delivered was enough to more than punch someone in the gut. It was enough to kick a man as well and repeatedly at that. So why did the man keep a tight grip on his emotions?

"I think he didn't know they were here until we told him," Dee murmured.

"You can't be sure of that, Dee," Ryo chided gently.

"Maybe not," his partner agreed, "but I can be sure of this. Eiri Uesugi placed that ring on the victim's hand."

"Ring? What ring?" Mac asked. Ryo sighed and glanced at his partner.

"It was something Dee noticed when we were helping to remove the bodies from the car and to gather evidence," Ryo explained. "Mr. Seguchi wore a thick gold band whereas Mr. Shindou wore a slender silver band."

"They reminded me of wedding rings," Dee added. He then pointed at Eiri Uesugi's right hand. "And he's wearing a ring that matches Shindou's ring."

"That makes sense," Mac said. "If two people are going to commit to each other, they're going to have matching rings. So . . . any reason as to why Mr. Uesugi is here?"

"We haven't asked him yet," Ryo replied, "but we know the only ones who knew he was here were Mr. Seguchi and Mr. Shindou. Mr. Uesugi has indicated as much."

The door to the morgue opened at that moment, and Eiri Uesugi stepped out. From what Ryo saw, the man still kept a tight rein on his emotions, and he approached the trio.

"Detectives," he murmured, nodding in acknowledgment. Eiri then looked at Mac. "May I ask who you are?"

"I'm Mac Taylor, from the crime lab," Mac said. He extended his hand to Eiri, who took it. "I'll be assisting in the investigation. I am truly sorry for your loss."

"And you will find who did this, I'm sure," Eiri said. His voice sounded tight, but, as Ryo watched him, the detective saw the rage burning in the man's eyes. It sent a shiver down his spine.

"We will do everything in our power to find the ones responsible," Mac promised.

"I know," Eiri said. He paused then inhaled a deep breath. "How long will they have to stay here?"

"As soon as the medical examiner finishes his reports, we'll release them to their next of kin," Mac replied. "From what I understand, Mr. Shindou was your lover?"

To this, Eiri nodded.

"Yes."

"I'll see what I can do about returning his possessions to you then," Mac said. To Ryo, the lead C.S.I. sounded more than sympathetic towards Eiri. He could not deny he felt the same way as well. "What about Mr. Seguchi? How do you know him?"

"He is . . . was . . . my brother-in-law," Eiri said. He closed his eyes and inhaled another deep breath. "I will have to call my sister and his parents . . . Please let me know when they will be released. I will need to take them back to Japan as soon as possible. The funeral rites . . ."

"I understand," Mac said, "but I can't promise you'll be able to take them back right away. It'll depend on how quickly we can conclude our investigation."

"Of course," Eiri murmured. "I understand."

"Thank you," the C.S.I. said. He then drew a deep breath. Now it was the nasty part, Ryo knew, the questions they always had to ask the surviving family members. "I know the medical examiner told you Mr. Shindou had been struck in the back of the head. Did he have any enemies?"

"No." Eiri shook his head. "None that I'm aware of and, believe me, I'd know if someone was after him. The brat would have told me. He tells me everything."

"Brat?" Ryo echoed. His lover was dead, and Eiri Uesugi was calling him a brat? It did not sound right.

"Yes," Eiri said, tilting his head. Something glinted in his eyes, but Ryo could not be sure what. "Brat. He stormed his way into my life, threw fits to get me to do what he wanted me to, and kept coming back despite the number of times I threw him out. He acts like a brat. Because of him, my entire life has changed." A hint of a smile touched upon Eiri's lips. It was a soft smile, the kind a person wore when he remembered something good. Ryo knew such smiles. He saw them whenever Dee visited his surrogate father's grave. "He's a brat, but he's _my_ brat. You have no idea as to how much he truly means to me."

"I think I can imagine," Mac said. "Though I must admit, this is the first time I've ever heard anyone use 'brat' as a term of endearment."

"Relationships are what they are," Eiri said with a shrug. "We each have our little quirks that annoy other people, even the ones we love the most. He's no different, but I wouldn't ask him to change for anything in the world. To me, he's a brat, but he'll always be _my_ brat."

If Ryo thought Eiri could have killed his lover, those ideas were now gone. The way Eiri spoke fondly of his now deceased lover indicated a strong love, one that would never break and never falter. It reminded him of his parents and the loving relationship they had before their untimely deaths. There was also the evidence speaking in Eiri's favour. Both Shuichi and Tohma's faces were not covered. While it was not a sign their killer did not know them, it simply meant the one responsible did not care. Whoever had killed them had shown no remorse for taking two lives.

Then there were the manners of their deaths. Shuichi had been struck in the back of the head, the blow instantly fatal. Tohma had not been bludgeoned with a blunt object. He had been shot, execution-style almost. Perhaps Shuichi was simply collateral in the end, someone who had not been the intended target but needed to be silenced.

"What of your brother-in-law?" Ryo asked. "Did he have any enemies?"

"All kinds, I'm sure," Eiri answered. He let out a tired sigh. "But he never told me about his business dealings. As a rule, he hates mixing business with personal. My sister probably wouldn't even know."

"Is there anyone who would know?" Ryo inquired.

"One of his lackeys," Eiri said. "Sakano-san . . . I think his number might be in Shuichi's cell phone. If it isn't, his best friend's number is in there, and he'll know how to reach Sakano-san."

"Why would your lover have this Sakano's number?" Dee asked.

"Sakano is the band's producer," Eiri answered. He spoke as if the answer should be obvious to them. "Tohma's their boss."

"What is the company they work at?" Mac said, finally breaking his silence. It was probably a good thing, Ryo thought. His head swam from the disjointed information.

"N.G. Productions," came the answer. Eiri then let out another tired sigh. "I know Tohma has an office here in New York. I just don't remember where, though."

"That's all right," Mac assured him. "We'll find it. In the meantime, go home and get some rest. If you think of anything else, even if it seems insignificant, please give us a call."

With that said, Ryo watched as Mac pulled out his business card and handed it to Eiri. The man nodded then turned to the morgue one last time. His expression saddened as his eyes landed on the dead form of his lover. Before anyone could offer him any more condolences, however, Eiri quickly turned and left. It would be the last time Ryo ever saw him.

* * *

Blood, warm and sticky, gushed over his fingers as he tried vainly to stop the flow. Both of his hands held his throat, but applying pressure did nothing to increase his intake of oxygen. The knife used to create the wound had cut too deep, and Ryo felt his vision turning black. He never felt the cuts that followed. He never heard the cries of his colleagues as they rushed him to the hospital. He never saw their grief-stricken faces as the doctors in the emergency room declared him dead. All Ryo remained aware of were the two men watching him as he died, their forms becoming clearer with each passing moment.

They were familiar to him, these two men, and they appeared to him as they had before their deaths. One of the men smiled at him, a man with blond hair and the deepest blue-green eyes. His smile beamed with the brightness of a thousand-watt light bulb, but there was sadness there as well. It was that smile that told Ryo he was like them.

He was dead.


End file.
